How Many Words Does A Picture Mean?
by The Poisoned Quill
Summary: Post Coma Chameleon. Mary can't sleep, but how does a picture she keeps in a file in her desk help answer some questions that are driving her crazy? And what does Marshall think?


**Just a quick thing I came up with after (finally) watching this weeks episode of In Plain Sight. **

**Disclaimer: If I owned IPS, there would be no Raph.... so obviously I don't. **

**Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

She'd been so broken when she visited her mother, but this pain surprised her. It was the pain of knowing she'd been right, of putting it out there and being let down once again. But she couldn't bring herself to grieve over the loss of Raph. Instead, as she sat in her home office in the early hours of the morning with her head in her hands, she felt relieved and that ashamed her.

What kind of a woman was she? Was she so heartless as to be happy that her fiance had just walked out of her life for good? No, she reminded herself forcefully, remembering Marshal's words on the way to Al Paso. _Someone who has somehow managed to protect the purest part of her heart, which does not seem insane to someone who really knows you._

She also remembered her response to his odd toned statement. "That would be you, and you." She muttered to herself. Odd, she knew Raph didn't know her, but she'd still been planning to spend the rest of her life with him? Marshall was wrong, she was completely insane. Marshall was the only one who knew her, the only one in her life she couldn't imagine surviving without. He was the one who used to make her laugh and who she talked to with out words. Marshall was the one...

What the hell? She thought bitterly. Was it really that simple? It was impossible. She couldn't. She didn't. She pulled the third draw on the left rather aggressively, ignoring the noise the drawer made now. There, hidden inside a folder that she kept in the very bottom of the drawer, was a pile of pictures she never showed anybody.

Most of them were forbidden pictures of witnesses and either her, Marshall, or Stan. She wasn't supposed to have them but, God, those were some good times. About a third of the way through the pile was the picture she'd remembered. It was the only one that had the both of them and no witnesses.

It had been taken at some random night when none of the occupants of the office had felt like going home, before Raph showed up and put extra tension in her partnership. They'd all been drinking a little, against regs, but it had been a rough couple of weeks. Stan had been holding the camera, which explained the crooked angle as he'd had the most to drink. Marshal was making a funny face for the purpose of being completely ridiculous, she remembered that the most. It didn't show in the picture, he'd been too busy laughing.

She was on his back, with the biggest grin on her face. He was holding her up well enough, but he _had_ been about to drop her. She remembered that wrestling match all too well. Stan had the whole thing on camera somewhere, but she didn't dare watch it. Still, her eyes were drawn back to her face. She looked happy and carefree. Her smile was not directed at the camera, and maybe that said more about her than anything else in the photo. She was facing the camera, sure, but her eyes were all on Marshall. And in her eyes was something that tightened in her gut. Her eyes were adoring and full of an emotion she'd been denying for too long. Oh, no, she remembered her mental rant not even a minute before. She did.

"Huh." She leaned back in her chair as she stared at the picture contemplatively. Maybe Raph was wrong. Maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe she didn't love Raph, maybe she tried to convince herself she did because.... yes, that was it. Of course it was. God, she was so stupid.

Grabbing her keys, she wasn't concerned about the time. She knew where she needed to be.

* * *

Marshall got up from his couch, the bottle of whiskey untouched. He'd spent the last several hours staring at it because he couldn't sleep but he couldn't bring himself to drink it. He couldn't get her out of his head, or what she'd said to him. _That would be you, and you._ He didn't know how much more he could take of this. She was going to get married eventually, and then he would be out of chances.

He couldn't get Wade's face out of his head either. The broken way he'd turned with tears in his eyes to walk away, giving up his love for her happiness. He didn't think he could do that, he didn't think he wanted to.

He had to go and tell her, it was just that simple. It didn't matter if Raph was there, they'd talk outside. But he couldn't just let her get away without knowing how he felt about her.

Grabbing his keys, he wasn't concerned about the time, He knew where he needed to be.

* * *

He was driving down the back roads, not really paying attention to the road. His mind was tripping over the words he would say, how he would say them. Would she laugh? Would she be angry? With Mary, he wasn't quite sure.

Headlights came into view, they both turned off their brights at the same time, causing him to blink once. He paid no attention to the driver, too distracted by the worry that was creeping into his mind. His breaks slammed when he fully registered the eggplant probe that had just passed him.

His eyes darted up to the rear view mirror to see _her_ car pull come to a screeching halt. She was out in a flash, so was he.

"What are you doing here?" He asked her when they were only a few feet apart.

"I could ask you the same question." She'd been hoping for a little more time to figure out how she was supposed to say everything without him considering an institution. But the answer hung between them unsaid. _To see you._

"Mary, I.." "Marshall, I...." They said at the same time. With a laugh, Mary stuck her hands in her pockets. "God, I suck at this."

"Ladies first." He bowed in an exaggerated gentlemanly fashion.

"Alright." She took a deep breath, prepared for the worst. "Raph broke up with me." Marshall's face morphed into instant sympathy for his partner. "Don't say anything. He was right to, I don't love him like I should. I love him, but I guess I'm not in love with him. Either way, it doesn't really matter."

"So," He chose his words carefully, not daring to show any hope. "What does matter?"

He was making this so easy for her, she realized. His patient eyes calmed all nerves she had about what she was doing. He couldn't possibly know the effect he was having on her right now. She pulled the picture she'd folded up out of her pocket and handed it to him. "What do you see?"

He stared at it under the brightness of the moon. Full moon, thank god. What he saw was a man so in love with the girl he was carrying that he didn't even know it. She'd fallen asleep on his lap, he wondered if she remembered that. The alcohol had knocked her out after the first hour. He'd taken her back to this place and laid her on the bed while he took the couch. She wouldn't remember any of that, but he did. Every crystal minute of it.

"I see two very happy partners." He lied, before amending. "I see two partners who care deeply about each other, but what does that have to do with any of this?"

"I didn't understand either, until about an hour ago." She took the picture back and stared at it again before shoving it in her back pocket. "When Raph walked out, I didn't feel the loss of anything more than a friend. And that did hurt, it did." She shook off the residual pain, she had to do this right. "But I couldn't live with myself if you walked away."

"I'm not going anywhere, Mary." He took a step toward her, she didn't back away and that was all the encouragement he needed. "I won't go until you tell me to."

She looked at him now, her almost wet eyes meeting his patient and kind ones. "I don't know how to say..."

"I love you." He told her quietly.

That was all she needed. She closed the remaining gap, pulled his lips to hers. His hands rested on her hips, daring to travel no where. He responded almost hesitantly against her lips. She knew he was thinking, trying to figure things out. And she let him, because the moment he made up his mind, he deepened the kiss and became the aggressor. Her hands buried themselves in his hair and she smiled against his lips.

The need for air forced them apart but she stayed there, enjoying the closeness. "So, what does this mean?" Marshall's voice was a little shaky and she met his gaze to see moist eyes to match her own. It would take a dofus to make her all mush, wouldn't it.

"I think it means I love you, Marshall." She smiled now as joy flashed in her partner's eyes. "I thought it would scare me, but I don't have any doubts about this."

"Good." He grinned, remembering the conversation in the car and her ideals. "Because neither do I."

"So what do we do from here?" She rested her head on his shoulder, took odd comfort in the pattern of his breathing.

"We go back to our respective houses, and tomorrow, we'll go to dinner." One step at a time. Don't scare her off. He would be especially careful now that she was this close.

"That doesn't work for me." She shook her head. "I don't want to start at the beginning with you, Marshall, we've been that far."

"Then where do you want to start?" He pressed a kiss to the top of her hair.

"Right here, where we are right now." She decided after a moment of consideration.

He knew what she meant. She didn't want the pretense of dates when they could just be the way they are. After all, love didn't change anything about who they were and neither one of them was really the dating type. But they couldn't just jump into engagement either. It was too soon and her family would never understand. So they'd enjoy each other until it was time without the pretense of dates.

"Alright." He pulled her away so that he could look at her. "You're tired, you need to go home and go to sleep. I'll see you at work in the morning."

"Right." She kissed him one more time before turning back to go to her car.

"Mary?" He asked her, waiting for her to turn around. "Can I hold onto it?"

She smiled, pulled it out of her pocket and came back to him. Kissing him, she slipped it into his shirt pocket before walking away again. He watched as she got into her car, looking back at him only once, and drove away.

It had happened in one look, the moment he'd walked into the crappy hotel where he'd met her for the first time. He hadn't understood her and he didn't think he'd ever want to, but she'd had her hooks in him. There'd never been a chance of shaking her loose, there was never a chance he was ever going to try.

Yes, she thought as she looked in her rear view mirror, Wade had been right. Marshall had been so annoying in his regulation following ways, and she still hated how significantly stupid she'd felt when he corrected her on her blunt insult over his introduction. But it had happened. She'd felt the click somewhere in her heart. Yes, it'd happened in one look.


End file.
